A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes
by MaisieWrites
Summary: My name is Santana Lopez, and contrary to popular belief, working as a Disney princess at the so-called "happiest place on earth" ain't all it's cracked up to be... Especially when Cinderella barely notices you exist...
1. Chapter 1

**[Prelude]**

* * *

My name is Santana Lopez, and I fucking hate my fucking life.

Yes, yes, some may deem me ungrateful, and granted things could be a lot worse; they _have _ been a lot worse, but everyone's got their shit, you know?

Like, how I used to live in bum-fuck Ohio. That sucked.

Or how I was a closeted lesbian for pretty much most of my life thus far. That sucked.

I used to work in Hooters. That really sucked (but tips were great!).

Things are slightly better now. _Slightly_.

I no longer live in back ass hicksville.

Living in Los Angeles means I now get plenty vitamin D and no longer have to spend every day working crap ass jobs in a crap ass town.

I'm out and proud and one of the hottest pieces of ass to hit West Hollywood since... possibly ever.

And though I no longer have to flirt with skeevy old men, and obnoxious frat boys for tips, my job still sucks and I don't care what anyone says on the contrary.

I work at Disneyland, and yes, you heard me right. It. Sucks.

I tend to avoid vocalising my opinion of my current profession because that generally leads to "Oh my god, you're crazy, I'd _die _to work at Disneyland every day! You must have so much fun!" people who say such things can suck it. I hate my job, no ifs ands or buts about it. I think I'd rather work as one of those people that dance on the side of the road with giant cardboard arrows that point to car washes, or furniture stores...

Okay, so maybe I'm just a little dramatic. Things could be worse.

I live in a moderately decent apartment, in a moderately decent area of central LA, and drive a moderately decent car. However, my moderately decent apartment, in my moderately decent area of LA is a pain in the ass drive in my moderately decent car to my job, 40 minutes away in moderately decent traffic, five days a fucking week. So yeah, some people may have it worse, but those people don't have to dress up like a Disney princess five days a fucking week and smile while germ infested children bombard them with unwanted hugs, or attempt to kiss them on the face with their slobbery, sticky mouths.

And let's not even start with how early I have to wake up from my beauty sleep every morning just to make it to work on time. Why live so far away from work? Most people ask. Well, believe it or not, portraying Princess Jasmine at Disneyland was not my dream job, nor was it my motivation behind moving to Los Angeles, it just happened to be the closest thing to an acting gig I've managed to land since getting here. And while there could be worse gigs, working in Anaheim really doesn't allow much time for running to and from auditions, but barista-ing at Starbucks for those whole two days didn't quite work out and being unemployed doesn't pay the rent. And sure, LA is full of restaurants and catering jobs and other professions that would probably be more suited to accommodating my pursuit of fame and fortune, but 'hopeful actress works as a waitress'... talk about a cliché! At least this job kind of makes me feel like I'm somewhat headed in the right direction, and is at very least, a conversation starter at the few auditions I have managed to make.

I know what you're thinking, things could be worse.

Did I mention my roommate's a jackass? Because she is. Sometimes. Let's just say she drives a Prius (if you've ever had the misfortune of travelling in LA traffic in, behind, in front of, or next to a Prius, you know what I'm talking about) and likely shits green from all the kale juice she ingests, and so help me God, if I have to hear about one more "perfect guy" she's met at Whole Foods, I may be forced to punch her in the tit.

She's an idiot. But she has her moments and I don't entirely hate her 100% of the time. Just the time I spend at my apartment... At least I've a roof over my head.

Yeah, things could be worse.

I have come to realise that most of my ailments are situational and entirely avoidable should I just alter a few things, and I'm all about it. For one, I have every intention of quitting my job within the next month so that I can finally knuckle down and focus on what I really want to do, be a star! Secondly, I plan to get the hell out of my apartment and as far away from my roommate as physically possible, the second my lease expires at the beginning of next month.

That should do the trick! And I am ready to take action.

Or at least I was before Cinderella got herself knocked up and had to be replaced by the most perfect individual that ever graced the inner walls of Disneyland, truly re-affirming that it is in fact the most magical place on earth, and that Walt Disney was speaking nothing but truth when he said "dreams really do come true".

My name is Santana Lopez, and I have it bad for Cinderella, and she barely knows I exist.

So no, things could not be worse.


	2. Chapter 2

_"We live in cities you'll never see on the screen, not very pretty but we sure know how to run things..."_

I groaned, pulling my pillow firmly over my head, and counting backwards from ten (It's a new calming technique I've been trying out... it has yet work).

10, 9, 8...

_"A hundred jewels on throats, a hundred jewels between teeth..."_

My roommate has just discovered Lorde and has literally not played anything but her album in almost a month; she also insists on trying to mimic her singing voice exactly, all the while I'm proud I haven't suffocated her in her sleep. I like Lorde just as much as the next person, but I swear to God, if I hear her damn songs much more, I may crack my roommate's physical copy of the CD in half and use the sharp edges to slice my own ears off.

7, 6, 5...

_"I'm kind of over getting told to throw my hands up in the air, so there..."_

Yeah, and I'm kind of over being woken up like this every fucking morning. I clenched my fingers around the pillow tighter, pulling it impossibly closer to my head.

4, 3...

_"Living in ruins of a palace within my dreams, and you know, we're on each other's team..."_

I pull my phone from my nightstand and see that I had at least five extra minutes of sleep before my alarm sounded, stolen from me because that troll has a morning regime that's almost as thorough as her nighttime one... almost!

2... Nope, no! I can't do it, I just can't.

Storming out of bed, I violently throw my door open so that is bangs harshly against the wall. The singing ceases and I know I have her attention but all I see is red; I couldn't stop now even if I wanted to... what? I've got rage.

Banging aggressively on the bathroom door, my voice rises to it's you-should-genuinely-fear-me level, and when I hear the shower turn off, it's evident said tone of voice has not lost it's touch, which still pleases me after all this time.

"Rachel, I am not kidding when I say that if you so much as _whisper _sing the words to a single Lorde song in my presence one more time, I'm going to shove my Louboutin stiletto so far up your ass you'll be singing in octaves only dogs can hear. Am I making myself clear?!"

Nothing but silence comes from behind the door, so I pound my fist once more with so much force behind it it shakes on it's hinges.

Rachel let's out a tiny squeal, but simply responds with a quiet "perfectly".

Satisfied that I'd instilled enough fear in my roommate to at least keep her hushed for the rest of the morning, I make my way to the kitchen, happy when I see Rachel's already set up the Keurig.

While my coffee brews, I pull my phone from my pocket and shoot a text to my co-worker, and best friend.

**[I think today might finally be the day I murder Rachel with a blunt object; if the cops ask, I was with you all morning.]**

Once my coffee's ready, I sit at the breakfast counter and take in these few moments of solitude before my day in the land of screaming children begins.

"You know, your bully tactics are getting pretty old, Santana. You could just politely request I sing something else, you don't have to be so aggressive about it, it's not very becoming."

Annnnd, moment of solitude is ruined.

"This scalding coffee will _becoming _at you if you don't stop speaking to me right now."

The words have only left my mouth when my phone chimes on the counter with a response from Quinn that simply reads:

**[play nice.] **

Rolling my eyes, I swear I sometimes think Quinn's secretly been bugging my apartment just in case I really do go all Kill Bill on Rachel, I place the device back on the counter without replying.

"Seriously, Santana. Must we do this _every _morning?!"

"If you continue to wake me up with your screeching, then yes, we do."

Rachel just sighs dramatically and fills her to-go flask with coffee; mumbling something about a late shift at the diner after rehearsals for her band, and exits the apartment.

It's funny really, because when I initially made the decision to live with Rachel, I thought it was going to be a good idea. She seemed motivated, and pleasant, or at very least tolerable, and yeah her wardrobe could use some help... from some gasoline and a match, and she walks with this weird, feet pointing out thing, but she genuinely seemed pretty cool. It only took three weeks of living with her to decide I basically detested everything about her and cursed whatever higher power made me believe signing into a 12 month lease with maybe the most irritating person on the planet, was a smart decision.

We do get along sometimes, but those times have become less and less in recent months, and even the most basic of pleasantries has become a struggle.

I throw what's left of my coffee down the drain, and head to the bathroom to start my morning regime, which takes about a quarter of the time it takes my roommate, but I guess I just don't really need as much help in looking good as she does.

Once I'm ready, I head to my car to make the tedious trip to work, the radio automatically switching on when I start the engine.

_"And we'll never be roy-"_

"UGH!" I punch the power button, deciding to ride in silence this morning. Fucking Lorde...

* * *

"Morning sunshine" Quinn sing songs from behind me, already dressed in her Sleeping Beauty costume. I glare at her, but she just brushes it off. It's kind of our 'thing'. "So, hashtag roommate probs again?"

"How many times do we have to talk about how lame it is to say hash tag before things in real life?" she shrugs, I know she's mostly doing it because she knows how much it bothers me, but I'm really not in the mood this morning. Instead of picking a fight, I just give a stiff nod. "She's literally got to be the most irritating individual there ever was. It has to be some sort of cosmic joke that I've been lumped with her! Karma, coming back to bite me in the ass for that time in middle school when I lied, and told everyone Noah Puckerman had lice and he shaved his head because none of the other kids would go near him."

Quinn laughed at this, and so did I. Truth be told, I was never really sorry for that. He told everyone I stuffed my bra, which caused the nickname 'tissue tits' to haunt me for all of seventh grade.

"So, did you hear they found a replacement Cinderella?"

I shook my head. "No, but let's hope this one lasts more than three months before boning one of our Prince not-so-Charmings."

"I heard she's really nice. Well, according to Tina any way." Quinn informed.

"Hmmm..." I was always skeptical of new people, I didn't like change all that much.

"Hey, how're you ladies doing in there? Almost ready?" Our supervisor, John, called from outside the locker room.

"Just a sec." I shouted. He was a pretty decent guy, and was exceptionally patient with me whenever I rolled my eyes at some doe-eyed kid, or took longer than I was supposed to on break.

/

Quinn and I made our way out into the park once I had changed into my Jasmine outfit, and fixed my hair accordingly. I was over this day already.

"Morning Santana." A chirpy Marley called, dressed as Belle and waving her book prop enthusiastically at me. I'm not sure why she was always so happy to see me, I mean, I wasn't mean to her, but I can't say I was exceptionally nice to her either, in fact, I rarely even gave her the time of day.

"Morning Marley." I said, giving a half hearted wave.

I looked at my surroundings, trying to spot the new girl so that I could make a hasty initial, and most likely, lasting judgement of her.

Scanning the area, I caught sight of a girl dressed in a Cinderella costume standing near the carousel talking to a little girl in a princess dress before giving her hug. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, with stunning blue eyes that I could see from all the way over here, and sparkling smile, and I won't lie, I was jealous of the kid getting to have her arms wrapped around her, which is a weird thought, but true.

I was so distracted I didn't notice a group of girls approach me. They had to be about 17 but were giggling like 12 year olds at their first boy/girl party.

"Hi" one of the taller girls stood directly in front of me. "Would you mind if I got a picture? Jasmine's my favourite."

Time to put the game face on. I tore my eyes away from from the blonde bombshell, and smiled at the girl. She blushed. Seriously, what is it with girls, that the older they get, the more enthusiasm they have for all things Disney? Is it like a rule someone forgot to tell me about when I was a teenager?

"Of course." I responded in the sickeningly sweet voice I used while on the clock.

We snapped the picture, and they proceeded to ask me to sign their autograph books. I hated this part the most, signing stuff. I'm left handed and nothing irks me more than having ink stains up my hand all day.

Not wanting to seem like a raging bitch, and mostly because I was on thin ice with our head co-ordinator, Sue, I took their books and made small talk. "So, are you lovely ladies here with any princes today?"

The girls all giggled again, nudging the one who had asked me for a photograph. Her face turned cherry red, and she refused to lift her gaze from the ground, "I'm more about the princesses." She admitted, completely mortified by her own honesty. I gave her a sympathetic smile that let her know that was nothing to be embarrassed about, and waved the group goodbye.

"Yeah, me too" I said wistfully under my breath when I looked up to see Cinderella smiling and waving in my direction as the girls took off. I was excited for all of three seconds before I saw Tina walk past me and straight up to her, embracing her in a familiar fashion.

* * *

I caught up with Tina later at lunch, interrupting her attempted flirting with Blaine. He played Prince Eric, and Tina was completely besotted by him; unfortunately for her, he was completely gay, and either she had the worst gaydar ever, or she was merely choosing to live in ignorant bliss.

"Sorry to break up this... whatever _this _is..." I gestured between them.

Blaine rolled his eyes "We were just talking, Santana. I've had a cold for the past few days and Tina said she knows some ancient asian remedies that could help."

"Mmm, I'm sure she did." I smirked, eyeing Tina in a way that let her know I knew what her game was.

Tina looked guilty but brushed it off as fast as possible. "Is there something I can help you with, Santana?"

"Actually, there is." I took her by the arm and pulled her away from Blaine. He's nice and all, but I don't need him knowing all my business. "What's the deal with the new girl?"

"Who? Brittany?"

"Brittany, huh?"

"Yeaaaah." Tina drawled, looking at me like she was trying to suss out my angle "What about her?"

"What do you know about her?" I pressed. I wanted to know as much about her as I could so that I could bring my A game when I eventually decided to get my flirt on.

"Well, her name's Brittany Pierce, she's originally from San Diego but recently moved to LA, actually, she lives pretty near Quinn from what she described. Uhm, she likes cats and..."

Tina trailed off when she noticed my attention had gone elsewhere, namely to the subject of our conversation that was now talking to Quinn at one of the nearby tables.

"And?"

Tina followed my gaze before continuing "_And _she's way too nice for you."

I scoffed bitterly "I'm nice."

"Not really."

"Well, I'm working on it. I have a plan."

"Just leave her alone, Santana. She's new here, and I really like her, I think we could be great friends, I don't want you scaring her off. Plus, she's settling in super well, everyone loves her already."

"Please, she's been here like ten seconds, how can everyone love her?!"

"For one thing, she's made a point of going around introducing herself to all the other cast members."

"She hasn't tried to talk to me." I said, mildly offended.

I watched as she laughed loudly at something Quinn said, feeling uncharacteristically jealous.

"That's because you're intimidating and unapproachable."

"Are those her words, or yours?" I challenged.

"Mine. But it's true." And with that Tina scurried off, no doubt to reattach her lips to Blaine's ass.

I made my way over to the table occupied by my friend, and Brittany.

"Oh, hey Santana. This is Brittany, she was just telling me this hilarious story about a duck in a hat. You gotta hear it." Quinn chuckled through her introduction.

Keeping in mind what Tina had said, I plastered on my friendliest smile and extended my hand. "Nice to meet you, Brittany. I'm Santana."

"Yeah, I know." She shook my hand, keeping the intense eye contact I had initiated. I was hoping it would hypnotise her into a prolonged handshake, that would perhaps verge on awkward, but that may give me some idea if she was just playing extremely hard to get. However, she released her grip almost immediately and looked back to Quinn; continuing with her story.

I sulked and sat down beside Quinn, as Brittany dazzled her with her great stories, and seemed equally as interested in everything Quinn had to say, while giving my questions and input, minimal and curt responses.

I excused myself once I had cleared my plate and headed back to my grind.

* * *

Quinn caught up to me a little while later, just before the 4 o clock parade.

"Hey, so a bunch of us were talking, and we're all going to head out Friday as a sort of 'welcome to the fold' thing for Brittany. You in?"

I shrugged. Brittany had been mingling with other cast members and visitors all day, but ignored me almost entirely. I tried smiling at her once, but she just nodded in acknowledgement and walked the other way. "I guess."

"Great! I'll tell Tina, she wants an idea of numbers."

She began heading towards her float, stopping just before she reached it "Hey, are you still coming over later?"

"Sure." As an afterthought I called back "Actually, you can come to my place, the dwarf has a late shift at the diner."

"Ok." Quinn called back, as she rounded her float.

I turned to head towards the Aladdin spectacle, almost bumping into Brittany in the process. "Oh, sorry."

"You know dwarves?"

"Wha- oh, no, I was talking about my roommate. She's short, and I hate her. It's just a nickname I gave her to piss her off."

Brittany stared at me blankly, although I didn't miss the slightest hint of disappointment that ghosted her features. "That's mean."

I screwed up my face. I certainly hadn't expected her to call me out. She didn't even know me. Usually I'd tell her where to shove her opinion, except I didn't feel angry, I felt embarrassed and sad that she thought I was mean. I felt the need to justify myself, which I never feel the need to do.

"It's not. You'd understand if you met her!"

She shrugged. "If you say so."

And with that she walked off towards the princess float, disapproval still evident on her face.

Shit.

* * *

**A/N: I do not currently, nor have I ever worked as a Disney princess, or at Disneyland. Absolutely everything is completely fictional, and I'm sure Disney princesses really like their jobs... I know I would if I were them. **

**Thanks for reading! **


	3. Chapter 3

"Woaaaah! What's all of this?" I rotated my hands in a circular motion at my roommate who was currently occupying the entire couch, wrapped in a giant comforter, and wearing her heinous cat footie-pyjamas. Her nose was a rudolph shade of red and used tissues lay strewn across the the coffee table and the floor between it and where Rachel was sitting.

She held a single finger in the air signalling for me to wait a minute while she chugged an entire carton of orange juice. I could do nothing but stare, completely perplexed, in the entry way to our apartment, at the bizarre sight in front of me.

She took a large gasp of air after placing the empty juice carton on the table in front of her and spoke in a voice so nasally, it almost made her usually irritating nasal tone seem almost tolerable. "I hab a cole."

"A what?"

"A cole-ed" Rachel struggled to enunciate the word, and didn't seem to notice that I had been merely teasing.

"I thought Rachel Berry 'doesn't get sick'?"

"Yeah, weh, one ob the waitresses at tha diner came dow wih tha flu and faid to mention it 'fore sharing her glass of water wib me."

"Why would you share a glass of water when you work in a diner? They must literally have hundreds of glasses." I don't know why I even decided to inquire further about a matter I really didn't care about, but the words had left my mouth before I could stop them.

"Puck said if I ate a whole chilli that he'd cubber my shibt on Sunday night so I won't miss my bamd's gig, and her glass was tha closest one to me after I ate it."

"Not that I particularly care, but why would your band book a gig on a night you already have work?"

"It's at The Roxy, bere are a nummer of acts performing and Kur was able to book us a spot last minute 'cause some otha girl got a spot perforbing on Dancin wih tha Stars on Monday."

"Okay, whatever, that's still a dumb trade off, but I don't care, just stay away from me, I don't wanna catch your germs on a healthy day and you're extra contagious now, so if you could move this little booger party to your room instead of contaminating the entire apartment, that'd be swell."

Rachel made a muffled huffing sound but grabbed her box of tissues and her NyQuil from the coffee table, tightened the comforter around her tiny frame and waddled off to her own room. I wanted to call out to her to get her ass back in to the living room to clean up her dirty tissues but she had coughed her whole way to her room, and I feel it may have been solely out of spite, so instead, I left them there for her to clean up tomorrow and headed straight for the bathroom for a nice, hot, relaxing bubble bath.

Friday came two, painstakingly slow, days later, and though I had made virtually no headway with Brittany, I was still looking forward to the night ahead, not that I particularly liked staff night's out, in fact, I basically loathed them, but tonight was different. It felt pregnant with potential.

* * *

"Hey, you ok? You don't look so hot."

"Puh-lease Fabray, I always look hot. And I'm fine, I just have allergies or some shit." I insisted, blowing my nose vigorously into the sleeve of one of Tina's extra shirts. It was growing increasingly annoying how brazen Tina was becoming so I didn't even feel kind of guilty.

"You sure?" Quinn eyed me skeptically, but instead of responding I just nodded while wiping my nose again before going back to touching up my makeup. Damn allergies were making my nose all red and my eyes look puffy.

"Santana, John wants to see you in his office." Tina came barging in to the changing room, already unbuttoning her shirt and wearing a smug look on her face. This unnerved me.

"What does he want?" I asked, momentarily distracted by Brittany's sudden appearance right after her. I gave her a half wave but received only a tight, forced, half-smile in response.

"He didn't say but I'd get a mov-... What is this?!" Tina shrieked as she slid her arms into the shirt I had recently deposited the contents of my runny nose into. I would've laughed, but Quinn nudged me in the ribs and offered me a Kleenex.

"Just go." She mumbled harshly. Tina was too distracted by her snot sleeves to notices how hard I was finding it to contain my sniggering, but it certainly didn't go unnoticed by Brittany, who made a point of clearing her throat to grab my attention and then giving me a look more disapproving than a nun would give a priest in a brothel.

The smirk fell from my face and I bowed my head as I swiftly exited the room.

/

Though I'd had a few run ins with my boss, and known him to be kind, if not overly so, I never liked to be summoned. In my experience, people only ever got summoned somewhere when they were in big trouble, or being exceptionally praised... and I was never the latter.

I hesitantly knocked on the wooden door upon arrival and heard a muffled "s'open' come from the other side.

"You wanted to see me?" I asked more than stated, peeking my head in first, following with the rest of my body when he nodded.

"Please, Santana, take a seat."

I did as I was told, wiping my sweaty palms subtly on my costume under the pretence of straightening out the wrinkles sitting had caused in my pants.

Never one to beat around the bush, I cut straight to it "Did someone complain again? I swear John, I've genuinely been trying to "bring the magic" as you put it, but some kids are intolerable and I-"

"Shh, Santana, it's not that... well, not just that." Reading my confused expression he continued, "It's just that when I hired you, I didn't notice you were left handed, and it's not really a huge deal because you're not Mickey or Minnie or Goofy etc. it's just, it's been brought to my attention that some of your signatures look a bit smudgy as the day wears on."

I was mildly pissed, but it was nothing I hadn't heard all throughout school so I politely nodded in understanding.

"It really isn't that big of an issue, but if a child has multiple different autographs from Jasmine and the handwriting doesn't match up, it kind of kills the illusion. Just something to be mindful of."

"Ok. Anything else? Or can I go?"

John hesitated, but decided to just bite the bullet "Well, actually, your temperament needs a bit of an adjustment; I know we've talked about this before and I know you've been working on it, but I have, unfortunately, received a few more complaints in the last month about your attitude towards some of the guests, and I've received reports that you've been seen sitting down in the middle of your shift."

"Lies." I shook my head adamantly though knowing these claims to be true.

He sighed, as if expecting me to deny it. "Look, Santana, I like you; I can tell you're a nice girl, if just a bit rough around the edges, but Disney's standards are of the utmost importance and cannot be compromised, and I can't keep cutting you so much slack. I think I'm pretty fair when it comes to my staff, and I appreciate that the face characters are maybe put on a higher pedestal by our visitors, but we cannot accept that as an excuse for lacklustre performance. Just" he sighed again. "try to keep the smile on your face at least?"

I gave him an obviously forced, overly fake smile, and he just chuckled.

"If that's your best, well, we really are in trouble."

I couldn't help but genuinely smile at that. He really was much too nice for his own good.

"So... can I...?" I gestured with my thumb to the door behind me.

"Oooh no, no, you're going home." My jaw dropped and I immediately went on the defence.

"What?! You can't just fire me! I have rights, and I'm pretty sure I'm part of a union or something?!"

John laughed heartily at my outburst which just infuriated me more, but before I could cuss him out, he held up his hand as if knowing it was coming, and when he managed to calm himself, he explained,

"You're not fired, Santana, but you are sick, and I can't have you interacting with our visitors, this place is already a hotbed of infection as it is with all these children; god knows where they've been. Go home. Bree can cover your parade shift, we'll see you Monday."

I thought about arguing him on it. I wasn't sick, I just had allergies. But then I figured, a few extra hours of preparation for tonight wouldn't go amiss, especially considering Brittany clearly wasn't going to make this easy for me. And a nap wouldn't be entirely unwelcome.

"Fine, but tell her pull that stick out of her ass before she climbs on that float." I threw over my shoulder as I exited the office.

* * *

"So, where are we meeting everyone?" I asked while applying my favourite shade of red lipstick.

"Harvard and Stone. Can I use this?" Quinn responded, holding up my eyeshadow pallet; not waiting for approval before opening it.

"Ugh, I hate that place."

"Why?"

"It's tacky, but they try to make you think it isn't by filling it to the brim with hipsters in stupid hipster hats."

"Oh _please_, I'd have had to mop your drool off the floor if your jaw hadn't been firmly attached to it when the burlesque show started, last time we were there." Quinn said, lightly shoving me to the side to share my mirror.

"That girl was _swinging_ off the rafters, Quinn, I was just afraid she'd fall! Plus, you never mentioned the bar had a burlesque show, I thought she was just some drunk chick taking her clothes off who had somehow climbed on top of the bar."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Don't 'mmmhmm' me, you know I hate when you do that."

"Mmmhmmm."

Ignoring her blatant attempt to piss me off, I walked into the living room, knowing she'd follow, and popped open the bottle of red I had left on the coffee table.

"Who's great idea was that place anyway? Tina's? I bet it was Tina, she's getting way too big for her britches."

Quinn gave me a quizzical look, "britches?" I shrugged and she went on. "Well, if you must know, no, it wasn't Tina's idea, if she had it her way we'd all be going to Rage."

I couldn't deny the truth in that. Tina was drawn to gay men like a moth to a flame. And though I enjoyed a good gay bar as much as the next lady-lover, I had to admit, watching Tina fawn over men who cringed at just the word 'vagina' was pathetic and a real buzz-kill.

"The starting location was my idea." Quinn admitted, not in the least bit remorseful that she had picked a spot she knew full well I didn't like.

"_Whyyyyy?_" I whined dramatically.

"Because, it's convenient enough for everyone to make it there without difficulty, and I figured it would be a good atmosphere to kick off the night." Raising her hand ever so slightly to stop me from arguing, she spoke again. "We'll just stay for one or two and then move on."

"Fine." I sulked, plopping myself on the couch like a petulant child, taking a large gulp of my wine, then grabbing a nearby box of tissues and blowing my nose furiously into one.

"You sure you're ok, you've been looking flu-y all day?"

"I'm _fine_." I insisted, "that stupid hobbit just gave me her head cold."

_"And we'll never be royals... It don't run in our blood. That kind of luxe just ain't for us."_

"Speak of the devil" I muttered as I heard my roommate fidget with her keys on the other side of the door. After our little encounter the other morning, she'd respectfully ceased bringing Lorde into the apartment so I was a little surprised by her ballsy move to relive that shit show.

Rachel finally got the door opened and paused mid-way through the lyric she was signing and froze, eyes wide. "Oh, h-hi Santana, I didn't expect you to- ..." She cut herself off and looked and the ground, speaking in a voice just above a whisper "I'm sorry."

I was satisfied that she cowered in my presence, but I could tell from the incredulous look on Quinn's face, she was not in the least impressed. She gave me a stern look that said 'we'll talk about this later' but didn't make any comment in the moment.

"Hi Rachel." She said in her sickeningly sweet Quinn way.

My roommate looked up from the ground, as if only now noticing someone else had been present. At seeing Quinn, she immediately perked up. "Hi Quinn, I haven't seen you in a while. How've you been?"

"No complaints. You?"

"Oh where to start?!" Rachel seemed thrilled to have someone to unload on "the diner's been crazy busy lately what with tourist season starting up, and my band has just booked a new venue for Sunday night, not to mention I'm still recovering from a cold and -"

"Okay Berry, we get it, you're busy spreading infection. You know the expected response to that question is simply "fine"; no one actually cares how you're doing. Now, if you'll excuse us, Quinn and I have _lives _and don't have all evening to spend listening to your first world problems."

Quinn threw me another disapproving look.

"Oh. Okay." she said, looking a little dejected.

I felt slightly bad, which I rarely did when it came to taking Rachel down a notch or five, but since Brittany said I was mean the other day, I've found myself feeling more and more ashamed whenever I saw that look on Rachel's face.

"What are your plans for the night?" Quinn was always too nice to Rachel in my opinion. It was almost like she potentially wanted to be her friend, which was outrageous because I firmly believe no one in their right mind could willingly want to put themselves in her company.

Coughing to clear her throat, Rachel mumbled something about Skyping her dads. My friend looked at her with pity but as quick as it had washed over her face, it was gone. She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, silently letting me know she was about to do something I wouldn't approve of. I shook my head vigorously, but before I could stop her, the words were already out in the universe.

"Why don't you come out with us? It's nothing fancy, just a bunch of people from work."

Rachel looked to me for approval but I simply shrugged, there was nothing I could do now, the invitation had already been extended, then, with the most buoyant look a person could have, she nodded with waaaay too much enthusiasm for my liking.

"Ok! Yes! I'd love to! Just let me go change."

"You have 15 minutes, or we leave without you." I said in a warning tone, knowing Quinn would insist we wait for her. Still, Rachel rushed off to her bedroom to get ready while I headed to the bathroom to find anything that could disguise this cold for the next few hours.

* * *

"Come on man, you can't be serious? We're just in town for one night, can't you make an exception?" Some man in cargo shorts and flip flops was attempting to reason with the bouncer when we arrived. A quick once over of his friends, all wearing similar attire, and I knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"Sorry, but we have a dress code, no shorts or flip flops allowed." The stocky bouncer explained. "No exceptions. Now please, step aside."

The small group of men moved away from the door, grumbling in frustration. The bouncer barely took a second glance at our before standing aside to let us in.

"Let's get drinks first while it's not too crowded, I don't wanna be fighting my way to the bar later. Besides, the more alcohol I have, the less I'll be inclined to want to punch our co-workers in the face." I suggested, only half joking.

"Ok, but be careful, you took a lot of that cold medicine and I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to mix it with alcohol."

"Ok _mom_." Quinn just rolled her eyes as Rachel rummaged in her purse, pulling out her debit card.

"Drinks on me." she exclaimed, handing the card to the bartender.

"Rachel, you don't have to do that." Quinn insisted.

"Quinn, if Rachel wants to do something nice, let her, God knows she owes it to me."

Rachel studied my face as if trying to work out if I meant it, but soon gave up and turned back to Quinn "Really, it's no problem, it's the least I can do to thank you for inviting me out tonight."

Quinn smiled in return and ordered her drink.

I made sure to order a round of shots for the three of us, and then, when we were all equipped with our glasses of pinot, we set off to find the others.

In a corner behind the bar, it appeared as though everyone else had already arrived.

"Sorry we're late." Quinn apologised, taking the empty seat next to Blaine, and patted the spot beside her for Rachel.

"Yeah, Rachel needed extra time to apply all that whore make up she wears every day."

A few people chuckled, Quinn shot me the millionth warning glance so far that evening, Brittany looked just as disappointed in me as she had the day she told me I was mean, and Tina looked between Brittany and I with the most shit-eating grin I'd ever seen on a person.

I cleared my throat before sitting down on the other side of Rachel.

"Rachel, this is Brittany." Tina was all too happy to make introductions. "She's new. I don't know if Quinn or Satan mentioned, but tonight's her welcoming celebration."

Rachel sat her glass down on the table, then extended her hand to Brittany "Pleasure to meet you, Brittany. How are you liking life as a Disney princess?"

I looked to Brittany for her response, I hadn't even thought to see how she was getting on the past few days, maybe that's why she didn't like me? She seemed like a pretty nice person, and I could be a little self-involved. That must be it!

"I love it. It's like a dream come true really, I always wanted to be a Disney princess, and pretty much everyone's been really nice to work with."

I noticed she actively avoided me when she said this, but now that I felt like I had the situation sussed out, I wasn't as phased, I'd just show more interest and she'd see I can actually be a decent person to people who aren't abnormally irritating.

"Is Cinderella your favourite?" I asked. She seemed a bit taken aback that I had asked a seemingly genuine question, but the shock was fleeting and almost immediately her indifferent expression had returned. "No, I wanted to be Tinkerbell."

"Why? She's a bitch." I said. I hadn't necessarily meant the Peter Pan character, although I believed she too was a bitch, I was referring to Kitty, the girl who portrayed her at Disneyland, who was an actual bitch and I know for a fact everyone else agreed.

"That's true." However I was surprised that the person to agree with me was Tina.

I insisted on buying the next round of drinks for everyone in another pitiful attempt to show Brittany I wasn't as selfish as Tina had no doubt made me out to be, but she didn't seem any more impressed than she previously had been.

When Brittany had suggested we all take shots she had just concocted off the top of her head, I was the first in line, even though everyone else looked hesitant due to their odd murky colour, and even though the effects of mixing alcohol and cold medicine were kicking in. Still, that didn't seem to earn me any brownie points.

I even thanked Rachel when she bought a bottle of champagne, and tried complimenting her on how her bangs were starting to even out, when I knew Brittany was within ear-shot, and still, nothing.

I was running out of ways to impress her, or reasons she may have for not liking me. The only thing I could think of was that Tina had been polluting her mind with all kinds of dramatised bullshit. Maybe I should throw into conversation how Tina used to practice wicca and previously had voodoo dolls of everyone who she believed wronged her or that she didn't like (including me) and would keep them in her work locker and stuff pins into them at lunch time?

/

After about five drinks in (not including the champagne) I decided to make my move when Tina went to the bathroom, leaving Brittany alone for the first time all night. The burlesque performance had started and the bar had filled up, meaning I had to shout to be heard.

"HEY."

She glanced at me out of the side of her eye. "Hi."

"HOW ARE YOU ENJOYING THE NIGHT SO FAR?"

"It's fun." she stated plainly, not removing her gaze from the girl who was now hanging upside down from a pipe just above the bar.

"THIS PLACE GETS PRETTY CROWDED."

Nothing.

"I HATE IT HERE, BUT QUINN LOVES IT. SHE ALWAYS WANTS TO COME HERE."

This seemed to catch her attention. "She does?"

I nodded.

"Hmm, doesn't seem like her thing."

"NO! QUINN LOVES HIPSTER SPOTS."

"Good to know." Brittany nodded to herself, returning her attention to the scantily clad dancer.

"DO YOU WANT A SHOT? I'M GONNA DO A SHOT!" I gestured to the bartender to pour two shots, but when she placed them down, Brittany declined.

"No thanks."

Why was she making this so difficult?! I downed both shots just as Quinn came stumbling up to us, pulling Rachel behind her.

"YOU GUYS WANNA GET OUT OF HERE?" She yelled over the music.

"SURE!" Brittany yelled back, and I just nodded, happy to finally be moving on.

We all squeezed our way through the bar to make our way outside, we had found Tina on her way back from the bathroom, and met Blaine and the others on the sidewalk.

"Where to now?" Rachel asked.

"RAAAAAAGE" Tina slurred. She definitely couldn't have been as drunk as she was acting, she drank the least out of all of us, and accompanied every drink with a glass of water.

I could feel myself swaying on the spot, but felt I was handling my liquor pretty well, considering.

"I'm down for Rage." Blaine chimed in, which only caused Tina to practically pee her pants with excitement.

"No. This is Brittany's night, let her decide." I chimed in.

Brittany just shrugged. "I don't mind where we go. What do you think, Quinn?"

Quinn knew as well as I did, that Rage with Tina was 100% out of the question, and Blaine would just abandon us all to take what he believed was his rightful throne as king of the gays, leaving us with a sobbing asian by the end of the night.

"What about, uhm... I dunno, any other ideas?" Quinn struggled.

"Oooh ooh! Let's go to a strip club!" We all turned to look at Rachel, who at this point, was already the drunkest I'd ever seen her.

"I ain't goin' to no club with greased up men in thongs grindin' all up on me. No way!" I put my foot down immediately.

"I know! Why don't we go to Sassafras, it's got the same upbeat vibe we had here, minus the hipsters, and sloppy burlesque!" I was surprised to see Marley making a suggestion. I'd almost forgotten she was even here.

"Ok, let's do that!" Quinn agreed.

* * *

As expected, the next bar was equally as busy, except not quite as suffocating. I had only been here once before but I enjoyed it. A live band was performing on the balcony when we entered, and I could see by the look on Brittany's face she was impressed with the New Orleans-esque decor.

Knowing it was probably a mistake, but past the point of making good judgement calls, I ordered a round of absinthe for everyone. I could not tell you one story of mine that included absinthe that ended well, but right now, I was more concerned with ways to make Brittany like me.

The band performed periodically for the next half hour, and in that time I lost count of how much booze I, or anyone else for that matter, had consumed. We'd managed to locate some chairs in the back corner section, but not enough for everyone so I found myself leaning sloppily against a shelf type thing jutting out of the wall, watching Brittany dance with Rachel, Marley, and a few of the guys, as well as a handful of strangers who seemed to think our little group looked like fun.

Tina was practically sitting in Blaine's lap, rubbing his head, while he tried to remove her hands from messing up his perfectly styled 'do.

"Not had enough yet?" Quinn teased, bumping her hip into mine, and pointing at the glass in my hand.

"You know what they say Quinn, just a bottle or so tequila helps the medicine go down."

She laughed more than she should have at my lame joke, letting me know she was extremely drunk. She placed a hand on my bicep, half to steady herself, and half because she gets pretty handsy and flirtatious after one too many drinks. "You know, you are working that hopped up on cold meds, hot mess look."

I gave her an amused smile, "Thanks Q, you're looking pretty dashing yourself."

"Naturally." She laughed, doing a little curtsey and stumbling to the dance floor. I watched her go and caught Brittany looking right in my direction. Feeling bold in that moment, I winked at her, but she just rolled her eyes.

This girl was completely infuriating.

/

As the night began to wind down, and most of the patron's had already departed, we remained some of the last few stragglers at the bar. Rachel, Quinn, and some of the strangers who'd joined the group were swaying in a weird slow dance circle that was most likely all of them just using each other to remain standing, Tina had passed out under a pile of coats, Blaine was attempting to flirt with one of the fellow princes, Sam, and Brittany had just returned from the bathroom, and was finishing off what was left of her drink just feet away from me.

At any other time, in my full senses, and without the influence of an alcohol and cold medicine cocktail, I would have just cut my losses for the night, but of course, sober Santana and drunk Santana are two very different people who do not like to communicate with one another, so naturally, I brazenly approached Brittany.

"Heeeey Britt-Britt."

She gave me a weird look; in fact, I gave myself a weird look. _Britt-Britt_?! Where'd that come from?

"What do you want Santana?" She seemed bored; almost inconvenienced by my presence.

"Why don'tchu like me?" I slurred.

"Huh?" She had been watching the weird swaying happening on the dance floor, only half listening to me.

"I said, whydon'tchu like me. I like you."

"Sure you do."

I could feel my face form a dramatic frown. Why was she acting like I wasn't telling the truth?

"I do like you. A whole bunch. But you don't like me and I don't e-even know w-w-why and you-you're s-so n-n-nice to everyon-e-else." I knew I was getting emotional, to be honest, I'm surprised it hadn't happened sooner in the night. Drunk crying is usually a repercussion of my drinking tequila, but it seemed it took longer for my brain to catch up tonight. "W-why do-do-don't you like meeeeee?"

"Just let it go, Santana."

"Will you go on a date with me?"

"What part of this conversation gave you the impression I would say yes to that question?"

"I-is that a no?" My frown depend further and my whining only persisted.

"Yes."

I perked up "It's a yes?"

"No. I meant yes, that was a no. I don't want to go on a date with you."

"But whyyyyyy?"

"I can't believe you don't remember me."

"You ladies ready to go? The bartender says we have to leave, and besides, Blaine is trying to get waaaay too fresh with me." Sam interrupted before I could ask her exactly just where I was supposed to remember her from.

"Sure." Brittany said, and walked away without looking back.

"This was sooooo much fun!" Rachel spoke loudly in my ear, draping her arms across my shoulders. I was too drunk and too confused to forcefully remove her.

_What was Brittany talking about?_


	4. Chapter 4

"And you really don't know what she was referring to?"

"For the millionth time, no!" I rolled my eyes behind my sunglasses, frustrated beyond belief and Rachel really wasn't helping.

"Maybe you guys had a drunken hookup?" Quinn suggested while applying sunscreen to her legs.

"Yeah, the thought crossed my mind, but I really don't think that's it. I haven't been wasted enough to forget a one night stand since high school, and that was mostly down to me willing myself to forget the greasy oaf of a football player I had allowed on top of me."

"Why don't you just ask her?" I could tell Quinn was growing tired of this topic of conversation that I had drawn out since we woke up this morning, but it was really bothering me.

"And say what, Quinn? I clearly did something to upset her; I can't imagine that'll do me any favours, besides, I'm pretty sure she's aware that I have no clue what she's talking about."

"Well then why are we still having this discussion? It's at least a million degrees out here, I'm hungover as hell, and you're not doing anything to lessen my raging headache with all this bullshit. Either come out and ask her, or just drop it."

I crossed my arms defensively over my chest and leaned further into my sun lounger, letting out an irritated huff. I knew Quinn was right, replaying the events of last night over and over in my head weren't going to accomplish anything. If I wanted Brittany to give me a chance, I first had to find out what I'd done to rub her up in such a wrong way, and Quinn and Rachel were not going to grant me any of the answers I needed. Still, the thought of confronting Brittany about it didn't seem all that appealing either.

"Oh! You could Facebook stalk her, see if anything jogs your memory!" Rachel called from her spot in the pool.

"Rachel, that's... actually not a bad idea! Q, gimme your phone."

"What's wrong with yours?"

"Her page is probably private and I can't exactly add her; she probably wouldn't accept even if I did."

Begrudgingly, Quinn rooted through her tote bag and dug out her phone, handing it to me. "Let it be known, I do not like being associated with this in any way."

"Mmmhmm noted" I brushed her off, already searching for Brittany.

Surprisingly there were quite a number of Brittany Pierce's on Facebook, but unsurprisingly there was only one I had a mutual friend with. Tina. Guess she wasn't entirely useless.

I clicked the "add friend" button and inwardly rejoiced when just a few seconds later, the red notification icon signalled my (or rather Quinn's) request had been accepted.

I went straight to her profile pictures, getting sidetracked by how pretty she was in all of them. One in particular caught my eye, it was a picture of her on the beach next to an impressive looking sandcastle, her hair blew slightly in front of her face, and she wore the biggest smile, her eyes were covered by a pair of bright pink sunglasses, but the way the sun caught her in just the right light made her look like she was glowing. I envied whoever had been there to capture the moment.

A notification appeared in the mailbox, and though I was a woman on a very important mission, I was also an incredibly nosey woman and my curiosity got the better of me. I clicked the icon and was surprised to see that it was Brittany messaging Quinn.

Not caring that the message was intended for my friend's eyes and not mine, I clicked into it.

**Brittany S. Pierce:**

_Hey Quinn, glad you found me. I was hoping you would. Did you have a good time last night? :) _

I scowled at the screen. What was so great about Quinn that Brittany was so thrilled to be her friend? I mean, sure, I liked Quinn but she was no nicer than I was. Not by much, at least.

I almost went to hand Quinn the phone back when I realised that's dumb and I could just respond to Brittany myself.

**Quinn Fabray:**

_Hey Britt. Yeah last night was amazeballs. _(Quinn would say something lame like that, right?)_ Did you have fun?_

I knew that Quinn was gonna kill me if she found out what I was doing, but it was all for the cause.

**Brittany S. Pierce:**

_Yeah, it was fun I guess. What are you up 2?_

Fun she guesses? What's that supposed to mean?!

**Quinn Fabray: **

_You guess? lol. Just hanging out at Santana's pool. U?_

**Brittany S. Pierce: **

_Yeah. Oh. Well have fun. I'm just playing with my cat. I'll let you get back to Santana. See you soon._

Well that was completely useless.

"Brittany messaged you." I decided to just let Quinn know.

"I'll reply later, I'm too hungover to engage in any kind of stimulating conversation right now."

"S'okay, I already wrote back."

Quinn jolted up from her horizontal position, seemingly too fast for her hangover because she rubbed temples and even though she was wearing sunglasses, I could tell she had squeezed her eyes shut. "Why would you do that?!"

"I thought she might hint at something, but she didn't, so calm yo tits."

"You're the biggest pain in my ass, Lopez."

"Yeah yeah, just lay back down." And she did, so I resumed my investigation, glad I wouldn't have to engage in an argument that I knew we were both too exhausted to have right now.

I skimmed through more of her pictures but found nothing that jogged my memory about who she was or how I was supposed to know. From the looks of things, she had only joined Facebook a year ago and all her pictures were pretty recent. I definitely hadn't met her in the last 12 months so she had to be referring to sometime before then. Or maybe she was just confused.

"You know, I'm starting to think Brittany just has the wrong person and is mistaking me for someone else."

"Mmmhmmm." I glared at Quinn for making that noise.

"What do you think, Rachel?"

Rachel, who was resting her arms on the side of the pool, watching something on her own phone looked up, clearly surprised I was asking her opinion on anything.

"I-I don't know. Maybe?" I could see she wished she had she would have had an answer that could please me more than 'maybe' but really, I couldn't expect much more than a maybe. I didn't even know myself.

"Maybe I can just write to her again, pretending to be you and she might tell me!" I thought aloud.

"Don't you dare." Quinn warned without moving from her position, or even opening her eyes.

"Ugh."

"Look, Santana, I'll invite her to Rachel's show tomorrow and you can ask her then."

I didn't like the sound of face to face confrontation one bit, but I was getting desperate. "What makes you think she'll want to go?"

Quinn just smirked, but kept her eyes closed. "Because she's got a crush on me."

"What?! No she doesn't! Jesus, narcissist, get over yourself."

"Oh please, Santana, you're telling me you haven't noticed?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you, because there _is _nothing to notice."

"If you say so." She lifted her shoulders in a subtle shrug and that just managed to piss me off more.

"Rachel, please tell Quinn she's being ridiculous!" I ordered.

My roommate looked reluctant to involve herself, but such was her nature, that she couldn't help it, "I'm not sure she is, Santana. Brittany does seem to be rather taken with her."

I glanced over at Quinn who looked like that cat who got the milk and was half tempted to slap the stupid look off her face but instead I got up and muttered that I was going inside.

/

Brittany didn't like Quinn like that, did she? I couldn't be that oblivious that I missed something that was apparently so obvious to everyone else.

* * *

I wasn't sure whether to be happy or furious that Brittany had been so keen to accept Quinn's invitation to Rachel's show. Was there even a point in trying to work things out if she had a solid lady boner for my best friend?

"I don't think I want to go anymore." I announced and I plopped myself down on the couch in Quinn's living room the night of the show, and curled my feet up beneath me.

"Don't be such a baby." Quinn called from the mirror in the bathroom where she was putting the finishing touches to what she called her 'nighttime casual' look.

Even though she couldn't see me, I pouted. "I'm not being a baby! I could just think of better ways to spend my Sunday night than hearing that hobbit screech into a microphone, I get enough of that at home."

Quinn walked out of the bathroom, mascara in her right hand, and a knowing look on her face. "You and I both know Rachel's a really good singer, and I've caught you more than once singing to one of her band's songs."

She was right, but I'd go to my grave insisting otherwise. "Whatever. Besides, wouldn't want to play third wheel on your _date_."

"Please, you know as well as I do, it's not a date."

"Oh yeah? Then why're you wearing your signature 'date night' lipstick?" I raised a challenging eyebrow at her, daring her to deny it.

She seemed unfazed "It's nice to look nice. You taught me that." She then retreated to the bathroom. I huffed, and threw myself further into her plush couch cushions.

/

The Roxy was busier than I had expected. After all, it was just a bunch of wannabe, no name musicians performing, but I had to admit, the turnout was impressive.

"Just two? 20 bucks." The guy at the door said after we showed him our .

"We're with Pamela Lansbury." Quinn informed him "And there's three of us. Our names should be on the list. Quinn Fabray, Santana Lopez, and Brittany Pierce."

The guy looked at his clipboard, lifting the first page and scanning the second. "Oh, here you are. The other one's inside." He wrapped bright green bands around our wrists and nodded his head for us to enter.

I had only been at The Roxy once or twice before, and always forgot how dark and small it was. I scanned the bar area and spotted Brittany. She looked stunning in tight, dark jeans, and a baggy white t-shirt, very fitting to the venue. She seemed a little lost in the crowd on her own so I nudged Quinn and told her to go get her.

"You have to come too or she really is going to think this is a date."

I followed behind reluctantly, this seemed like a better idea during yesterday's hangover. To be fair, no one should be held to anything they agree to when they're hungover, it's a very vulnerable state to be in, after all.

"Hey Brittany" Quinn greeted, tapping her on the shoulder.

Brittany for her part, looked absolutely ecstatic to see Quinn. She leaned forward and gave her a hug, and in a moment of bold decisiveness, added a hasty kiss to hert cheek as they were parting. I wasn't aware I was scowling until Brittany noticed me and I felt my features soften.

"Oh, hey Santana." It was dark but I could still see the hint of a blush creep up her neck. I felt bad, but I really had no reason to, she's the one who made the assumption that Quinn had invited her on a date date.

"Hi Brittany."

Quinn looked between the two of us, clearly growing uncomfortable with the mounting tension. "Let's go sit down, Rachel said she reserved a table for us."

We both nodded and proceeded over to the elevated seating area. We flashed the green bands at the security guard manning the area and found Rachel had indeed reserved the first table to the right.

A waitress came and took our drink orders, and though I knew Quinn and Brittany weren't on a date, I felt like an intruder. Maybe Quinn should have told her I was coming. I didn't want to make things awkward, it wasn't a fair position to put Brittany in.

Quinn, to her credit, had been making a decent effort in engaging Brittany in small talk while avoiding apologising for the confusion. Really, there was no reason for her to apologise, I had been there when she'd called Brittany to invite her and nothing in her tone or invitation had suggested anything deeper than a friendly hang out at another friend's show. If anything, Brittany should have probably thought to ask if I'd be there, after all, Rachel was my roommate.

The waitress returned with our drinks just before the first band took to the stage. I hadn't said anything since we sat down, and was glad for the show starting, relieving me of any pressure to contribute to the conversation.

Quinn and Brittany shared the odd comment here and there as the evening wore on, but the music was too loud for me to hear. I really did feel out of place and that irritated me. I had every right to be here. These were my friends. Brittany was holding some grudge for some reason I couldn't determine and yet here I was, feeling like an outsider in my own inner circle.

By time Rachel's band was up, we were all a few drinks in and I had mellowed a little, though I still felt a chip on my shoulder from all my inner thoughts over the evening thus far.

I could tell Quinn had been overcompensating with Brittany as her own way of making up for not telling her I would be in attendance and that's why she hadn't made much effort to include me in their conversation; I was partly annoyed with her, but the other part of me was grateful that she wasn't making the situation even more uncomfortable than it already was.

The three of us watched as Rachel took to the stage, and even I had to admit, under the bright lights, with decent make up and the soothing sounds of the instrumentals behind her, Rachel looked and sounded pretty damn decent.

Brittany seemed impressed and it only then occurred to me that she had never heard Rachel sing before. Quinn also seemed to be enjoying the performance, but she enjoyed when Rachel sang around the apartment so her opinion didn't really matter.

Brittany caught me looking at her, and though her smile faded slightly, it didn't entirely disappear and that made my chest swell with happiness. Maybe she could just overcome whatever I'd apparently done in the past and I could ask her on a date and tell her outright that Quinn wouldn't be coming, that it would be just us, and she'd see I wasn't such a bad person after all...

Except I was completely running away with myself. She hadn't even really smiled at me, it was just a residual smile from hearing Rachel sing. I wish she didn't make me care so much about such stupid, irrelevant things like how big or small a smile was.

/

The room erupted in shattering applause once Pamela Lansbury's set was done. I joined in, uncharacteristically proud of Rachel. There was something to be admired for really following through with a dream, and Rachel was going for it. She came running from backstage afterward, heading straight for our table.

"So, what'd you think?" Her eyes were gleaming with a barely contained curiosity, but I could see she knew she killed it. And I told her as much.

She squealed and hugged me tight; I saw Brittany looking our way and though I couldn't quite tell, she looked almost baffled by the two of us. I guess to an outsider, it may seem weird that I basically loathed Rachel and bitched about her to anyone that would listen, yet here we were, acting almost like real friends would.

"You were great Rach, the best by far." Quinn praised.

Brittany nodded in agreement "Really Rachel, that was phenomenal! I wasn't expecting a such a jaw dropping performance."

"Thanks so much for coming guys! I really appreciate it. We even sang a song more than we were supposed to because I knew you'd be here."

"Awwwh" Brittany and Quinn said in unison, I didn't really see the big deal, it's not like she dedicated it to us or anything, but I gave her a grateful smile none the less.

"So, do you guys wanna stay and watch the last few acts or do you wanna get out of here?" Rachel asked.

I was surprised. She usually loved to hang around and suss out her "competition" that even her suggesting leaving caught me off guard.

"My roommate's having a party tonight, nothing huge, just some of her friends celebrating a guest starring role on some new CW show, but we could go there if you want? Make it a joint celebration! Your bandmates can come too!" Brittany offered, and I silently hoped the invitation extended to me as well.

"Great! Thank you Brittany! That sounds perfect! Hold on I'll go tell them!" She made to head backstage again, but stopped and turned back. "Actually, could you just text me the address? There's a female performer on next that I'd like to see."

And there's the Rachel I know and tolerate.

"Sure." Brittany smiled, before turning back to the table "Let's go."

I didn't want to ask if it was okay that I come, for fear she'd say no, so just tagged along silently.

Brittany had taken the bus here because she claimed to be a terrible parker, so we all made our way to Quinn's car.

/

The short drive to Brittany's place was even more awkward now that there was no loud music or crowds of people to drown out the tension. I busied myself with checking Twitter on my phone, but of course the Twittersphere all but comes to a standstill once everyone on the east coast goes to bed, so there wasn't much to look at.

Quinn hummed softly to whatever song was on the radio. I didn't recognise it.

And a stolen glance at Brittany informed me she was just quietly looking out the window.

Maybe I should have just gone home, after all, I had work tomorrow, but the masochist in me made me want to stay.

* * *

We pulled up to Brittany's apartment block shortly after leaving the club. Tina was right, it was pretty close to where Quinn lived; it almost had me wondering why none of us carpooled to work, surely it'd be like, environmentally friendly or some shit? I bet Brittany'd be into that kind of thing.

Her apartment was on the third floor and seemed to be slightly separated from the others, which was probably a good thing considering I could hear the low hum of music as soon as the elevator reached her floor.

"This is a nice building" I complimented, hoping it would make my presence a little less weird. She responded by giving me her usual tight lipped smile and muttering a quiet "thanks" no doubt for Quinn's benefit.

When she opened the door to her apartment I was taken aback by the stench of weed that hit me and wondered how I hadn't smelled it while coming down the hall. I didn't have a problem with weed, living in Los Angeles it's a smell you get used to pretty fast, but for some reason, I imagined everyone Brittany knew to be as innocent as she seemed.

Quinn, who I knew dabbled in weed every now and then, seemed impressed by the sight before her; I had to admit, so was I. I'm not sure what I expected from a party at Brittany's place, but I guess maybe more Stepford Wives and less Bling Ring.

Brittany went straight for the fridge and pulled out three beers, popping them open and then handing one to Quinn and I. I hadn't expected her to offer me anything, but it just reaffirmed to me that I needed to make whatever it was I had evidently done to her, right. That is, if I even had done something to her, after all she had really just insinuated that I should know her from somewhere, maybe that was all it was. Maybe Quinn was right and we'd hooked up before, but I doubt I'd have forgotten someone as beautiful as Brittany, and contrary to what people may assume about me, I don't get around all that much.

Distracted by my thoughts, I was blindsided by a considerably drunk girl who blew past me, almost knocking my beer, and basically tackling Brittany.

"Brriiiiittttz, you're hoooome! Good turn out, huh?" The short stranger screamed louder than was necessary over the music.

"Great!" Brittany responded less enthusiastically but the other girl didn't seem to notice. She looked up at myself and Quinn and then gestured to the small woman who was practically hanging off her neck. "This is my roommate, April. April, this is Quinn and Santana."

April eyed us up and down for a moment, and then squinted at me but spoke only to Quinn. "Nice to meet you, Quinn. Glad you could make it to my soiree, I told Brittany she should invite some friends but she said no."

"Glad to be here." Quinn replied. This was getting ridiculous, I didn't even know Brittany, but she had clearly told her roommate something that had led her to clearly dislike me too!

"Yeah, thanks for having us. Cool party." I decided to swallow the sour taste I had in my mouth and hold back the venomous words that threatened to lash out at this stranger being so openly rude to me, and try a new approach. The counting thing may have not worked out like I'd hoped, but surely I had some self control in there somewhere, I mean, Rachel was still living, and breathing on her own so I must have some restraint.

"Mmmmhmmm" April did that annoying noise I had so much disdain for, looking me up and down once more before deciding that the guy who just walked in with a giant keg was more worthy of her time, and departed.

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, and embarrassed for reasons I couldn't explain, I excused myself to the bathroom. Brittany, oddly enough, told me I could use her bathroom because usually when April threw a party, the plumber was the first call to be made the next day. I was grateful for this offer, especially when I passed the bathroom on the way to Brittany's room and saw a guy taking a dump in the sink through the crack in the door.

/

Walking into Brittany's room felt strange; not only because people had somehow respected the 'Do Not Enter' sign on the door, but because I felt like I was trespassing. Sure, she had given me permission to come through here, but knowing she disliked me so much made me feel like an intruder. Bedrooms were a personal space, I found Rachel in mine once, looking for the curling iron I'd stolen from her, and proceeded to hit her with it... not hard or anything.

A wall of photos pinned to a cork board above a small desk caught my attention, but just as I took a step closer to get a better look, my conscience took over and told me I had no business prying into her life like that. Usually I wouldn't give a damn, I liked to know things, sue me! But whatever came over me, I decided to take a step back and beeline for her en suite.

/

If my willpower lasted as long as my grudges, I'd have made it back out to the party without a hitch, alas it doesn't, and instead I found myself over by the damn cork board looking at pictures of Brittany from different periods of her life.

There was an adorable picture of her as a toddler; she was wearing a pink ribbons in her hair and sitting in some old guy's lap (I assumed it was her grandfather), she had an ice-cream in her hand but most of it was all over her face, but she didn't seem to mind, in fact, she appeared to be laughing hysterically. I smiled warmly at the image before moving on to the next one. In this, Brittany was dressed in a girl scout uniform and smiling brightly at the camera, her two front teeth missing; she held a box of thin mints in one hand while her other arm was slung around her young friend who wore a matching grin. I was still smiling but found myself wishing that it was from this time I was supposed to remember Brittany from, she looked like such a fun loving girl.

I skimmed over more photos, loving how genuinely happy Brittany looked in each, but feeling a little guilty at peering into her past like I had any right to, but I couldn't stop.

In the top left hand corner of the cork board was '2006' written in bubble font and colored in bright pink marker, outlined in navy blue; surrounded by a number of photos from what I assumed to be that year. One was of Brittany and the same old man from the picture of her as a toddler, only he was much older, and his gaze seemed faraway. Another one showed Brittany at the San Diego zoo she had some puppy fat but it was cute, and she stood in from of a gift shop with a girl who looked like an older version of the girl scout picture, she was hot and I felt like I knew her from somewhere other than the previous picture but I couldn't place why. Next was a picture of Brittany with what appeared to be her high school cheer team, this really made me smile, I was a cheerleader, we'd have probably been friends. Her hair was shorter in that picture but it suited her. It was the final photo I came to that really drew my attention though, it was Brittany and a red headed girl standing by a familiar looking lake, I felt like I knew it but wasn't sure how. The red headed girl had frizzy hair and looked a little bit older than Brittany, but not much, she wore sweatpants and a slightly dated looking jacket, Brittany still had her puppy fat, and her skin wasn't as clear as it is now, but hey, she was a teenager. She wore braces in this picture, and though she had her arm linked with the other girl and a smile on her face, even from here, I could see that it didn't quite reach her eyes. She wore a red and white tracksuit jacket with something written over the left breast that I couldn't quite make out. I noticed in the top corner of the picture were little indents that indicated something was written on the back. Unable to fight my curiosity, I pulled the pin holding the picture to the board and turned it over.

I felt the blood drain from my face upon reading reading those five small words: _Sylvester Spirit Cheer Camp '06_.

Before I had time to register completely, or have the sense to put the picture right back where I'd found it, the door to Brittany's room burst open, revealing the Brittany herself. The confused look she had been wearing quickly changed. First it flashed to what seemed like shock, but quickly flared to anger. Her words were full of hate but tinged with what could only be described as hurt when she spoke next, and for the first time, I wasn't confused or offended by her tone.

"Remember now?"

I looked back down at the picture in my hand, now facing image side up. A lump formed in my throat at the sight of the girl with the half forced smile; I nodded guiltily, choking out a simple, "I remember."

* * *

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all the reviews and favourites etc for this story. I really didn't expect such a great response for it! This chapter and the next are kind of a turning point in this fic. I personally can't stand drawn out angst, so I'll do my best to avoid prolonging it, just bear with me a little longer.**

**Also, if anyone's interested in a not quite so angsty modern day Brittana circus fic, check out my new story 'Above the Sky I Am Limitless' [ s/10345579/1/Above-the-Sky-I-Am-Limitless]**


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